Saahira had hoped her compliment would clear the air with Cyprus, but as they moved farther away from fate and arcana, his smile faded, and the dour expression he’d worn in class returned.
They walked to the dining hall in silence, and the latent insecurities that plagued her were waiting, ready to peck at her mind. Had she done something wrong? Was it wrong to call him her protector? Her friend?
Saahira slowed to a halt and let the students around her pass. They were just a few steps away from the stairs leading into the dining hall, but the silence between her and Cyprus wove too many unsettling futures in her mind’s eye. Futures like Cyprus leaving her alone to sit elsewhere as soon as they entered the hall; too embarrassed to be seen with a girl wearing anything less than the latest fashions—or perhaps appalled by the simple fact that she didn’t carry a second quill. Or worse, ending their friendship because being around her brought too much trouble.
Cyprus made it two steps further, hesitated, then turned to look at her. “Is everything alright?”
“I’m…sorry that I didn’t find where to bathe last night.” Saahira looked down at the cloak in her arms. She’d forgotten to put it back on before they’d left fate and arcana, leaving her shoddy attire fully exposed. “And that my dress looks like a sack—”
“Hey, no. Stop that.” Cyprus shook his head and moved to rejoin her, shifting his books beneath one arm. The surge of students was thinning out, and none of them seemed to pay them any mind.
With a gentle nudge of his hand on her shoulder, Cyprus urged them away from the cobblestone until they stood in the grass beneath the shade of a tree. The hand on her shoulder dropped to her elbow, cradling it in his palm as he searched her face. “You’re doing it again,” he said.
His touch felt…foreign. It was delicate and conscientious, as if she were a bird prepared to take flight. “Doing what again?” she murmured.
“Apologizing for things you should not be apologizing for.” His hand returned to his side, and she was a little disappointed to see it go. A group of straggling students passed by, and he lowered his voice. “Saahira, what is your intention when you apologize to someone?”
An intention outside of magic. The weight of his question was palpable. Saahira considered his words for a time before answering. “When I apologize to the people I care about, I say it sincerely. My intention is that I’ll do better next time.” She shifted her weight to her other shoe and hugged her cloak closer. “When I apologize to unruly patrons at The Laughing Bull or people like Kaylee, my intention is for them to leave me alone.”
“I thought as much.” Cyprus swept his free hand toward the building that contained fate and arcana’s classroom. “Your apology to Kaylee validated every vile sentiment out of her mouth.”
Saahira wrinkled her nose. “How is that possible?”
“Because an apology is an admission of guilt. Kaylee sees us as a collective. So even if you didn’t intend it, you grouped us together,” Cyprus said. “Every conversation you have with nobility is a game. The last thing you want to do is offer a verbal assent to their incorrect opinions. That will never advance your position in their ranks.”
Saahira bit her lip. Was “advancing her position” among nobles even possible? “My mother taught me to fight cruelty with kindness.”
Cyprus shook his head. “That isn’t a stance that works here. They view kindness and regret as submission. Weaknesses.”
But I am weak. Saahira swallowed the thought. No… Not as much as I think. If she was going to make it to graduation, she needed to stop thinking like that. “Is there a correct time to apologize?”
“Yes. If you’ve truly mistepped and you want to stay in a person’s good graces. Not when vacuous banshees throw insults for attention.” The frustration she’d sensed from him in class returned in his tone.
What about Kaylee had finally broken his calm? “Cyprus…?”
“Hm?”
“Dimitri and Talia have harassed us for two days. What was so different about Kaylee’s comments that bothered you?”
“I don’t know.” Cyprus looked at the door to the dining hall, now entirely vacant. It seemed they were the last two students lagging behind. “I think… Well, I expected plenty of this kind of behavior toward me, but the complete vitriol they spit at you because of a humble upbringing…” His words hung in the air, and his gaze stayed on the door. “Well, in the words of greater men than I: it’s horseshit.”
Hearing him curse caught Saahira completely off guard, and she couldn’t help but giggle. The sound seemed to set him at ease, if just a little.
“It is horseshit,” Saahira agreed. “But, thankfully, that was my last class. I’m sure it’ll all feel repetitive by tomorrow.” Cyprus turned and opened his mouth to speak, but she raised a hand to stop him. “I’ll do my best not to apologize again unless absolutely necessary. However…I’m not quite sure how to stop them from crumpling up my notes or breaking my quills.”
The cold stare he’d favored Dimitri with flashed in his eyes, and Saahira’s breath caught in her throat. “Isn’t it fortunate, then, that we’re learning enchantments, curses, and hexes?”
“Cyprus—”
“Come on.” The icy expression vanished like the brief flicker of a candle’s flame, and the warmth in his features returned. Cyprus tipped his head toward the door. “The food will be cold if we wait any longer.”
With a silent nod, she followed him up the stairs, unsure if their conversation had made her feel better or worse.
What was Cyprus truly capable of?
He pulled open the door and caught her attention with a sly smile. “By the way, can I just say how entirely wrong Kaylee is?” He reached out and pinched the edge of one sleeve of her dress between two fingers. “You look lovely.”
The blush that threatened to consume her was chilled by Cyprus’s earlier remark. She licked her lips and forced a smile. “Thank you.”
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
Scanning the dining hall preoccupied her thoughts, and this time, she was the one to lead them to a vacant pair of seats. There were three empty chairs on either side of them, and six more across from them.
They were quickly greeted by another woman in a clean, black uniform asking if they’d like water or cider. Saahira chose the former, parched after the day’s events. She finished her glass before their meals reached the table.
“Ah, maybe leave the water pitcher behind?” Cyprus said to the attendant.
As soon as their steaming plates and the water pitcher were situated and the attendant gone, Saahira refilled her cup and downed a second glass. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was.
“Take it easy. You’ll give yourself a stomachache.” Cyprus laid his hand over the top of the metal pitcher and eyed her warily. “Your demons must have done a number on you this morning.”
He was turning the conversation to her. Again. A task he seemed very good at. And I still hardly know anything about him. Only that he’d handed veiled threats to those who harried her, gifted Saahira his satchel as if it had cost nothing, and that his father was a terror to vampires. She still didn’t understand his penchant for alchemy and hadn’t learned anything about Noctia. Was necromancy even his focus in the sanctum? Or simply an idle threat thrown at Dimitri?
Saahira stabbed her fork into the collection of tiny eggs on her plate and huffed a low growl of frustration when they slipped away from the prongs. Did everything have to evade her?
“That was quite a sound. Maybe you’re more hoarse than I thought.” Cyprus chuckled as he refilled her glass. She frowned and took another stab at the eggs. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
The hum of other students talking away was loud enough to mask Saahira’s voice if she were careful. “I’ve told you everything about me, and I still know so little about you.” At last, she pierced two eggs with her fork and triumphantly shoved them into her mouth. “I haven’t enjoyed piecing together your background through insults thrown your way and random questions asked in necromancy class.”
“Someone brought up my father in your class?” Cyprus looked bemused.
“Yes.” Yellow yolk colored her fork as she successfully poked another egg. “Is this how you want me to find out?”
Cyprus shrugged, easily spearing four eggs onto his own fork. “I thought you would have read your book on necromancy by now.”
This time, Saahira did blush. Micahel Reyner is in my book? According to Professor Lawrence, Micahel had used a magic never again repeated, so of course he’d be included in their books.
But…still…
“Reading about it’s not the same,” she murmured her thoughts aloud. “The writer gets to tell the story how they want to see it. Like Nils Steinheil and his ‘noble flügels.’”
Cyprus grinned. “My mother hates that book. I’m sorry you got stuck with it. Let me know if you’d like to borrow my enchantments book instead.”
“You’re changing the subject again.” Frustration touched Saahira’s words. She dropped the fork on the side of her plate and clasped her hands in her lap. “Cyprus, maybe I apologize too much, but you refuse to talk about yourself. Do you… Do you not trust me?”
Cyprus carefully set his fork down and lifted his glass. It felt like ages passed before he said, “I want to.”
“Have I given you a reason not to?”
He drained his cup before replying, “Not yet.”
Yet. The word stung. He was waiting for her to cross him. Logic reminded her that she’d only known him for two days, but her emotions begged for him to offer even a shred of a connection. Something that would prove their friendship. And how would I know what ‘friendship’ looks like? Her face felt hot with embarrassment. She wouldn’t. She’d never experienced it before.
-Tell him.-
The choir’s voice gave her a start. What…?
“Saahira?” Cyprus set down his cup and looked at her.
-Tell him your truth.-
Another unexpected crumb of assistance—unless of course they meant to sabotage this relationship before it had a chance to bloom. But they hadn’t interrupted any of their other meetings. So, then, what did she have to lose?
Saahira closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Alright.
“Cyprus, I-I have… I’ve never had a real friend before.” Saahira’s admission was far more difficult than she’d imagined; each word catching on her tongue and begging her to stop before the next one arrived. It was embarrassing, vulnerable, and a truth she’d been forced to face the moment she stepped on sanctum grounds. “Maybe I’m pressing too hard and expecting too much. If I am, then I’m—”
“Don’t apologize,” Cyprus said.
“Right,” Saahira whispered just a little louder than the surrounding conversations. “A-anyway, it isn’t just nobles who I’m inexperienced with; it’s people. My days were spent helping out my family, then working at the Bull, sleeping, and then I did it all again the next morning.”
Saahira tugged a dark length of hair over her shoulder and toyed with it while she spoke. “The girls who worked the tavern were close with one another, but I never felt like they saw me the same way. Even as a child, many of my playmates moved away before I could call them my friends.” Her words tumbled from her lips like a waterfall. If he knew this much, he may as well learn it all.
“At home, I refused to be a burden on my parents and Isa, so I made sure that I was always smiling,” she said. “Even when my mother found me in the summoning circle, I kept smiling. But you’re the first person who sees…me.”
Cyprus nodded slowly, then leaned an elbow on the table and rested his chin on his hand. His posture remained straight and perfect while Saahira slouched and reminded herself that crawling beneath the table would bring their conversation nowhere. Had the choir steered her wrong?
“I’m one of three children,” Cyprus said softly. He repositioned his head so that his temple leaned against his knuckle. But despite facing her direction, his gaze never settled on hers. “My eldest brother, Rhys, was the first success in my father’s experiments.”
Saahira’s eyes widened, and she held her breath.
“Bellami, the second oldest, was the final failure.” A sad smile turned the corner of his mouth. “The necromancy books always mention Rhys, but never Bellami.”
“Cyprus—”
A cluster of giggling girls pushed past the chairs on the opposite side of the table, interrupting Saahira’s thought. Maybe it was for the better. She struggled to find the right words to say.
As the girls moved outside of earshot and turned toward the door, Cyprus lifted his head and let his forearm rest on the tablecloth. He finally met her gaze, and his stare was somehow different; decisive. “Saahira, did you have a chance to learn how to craft the falcon’s eye potion last night?”
Saahira blinked. “Erm, no. I didn’t.”
“There’s an alchemy lab open to students above the demonology classroom. It should be empty on the second day of classes.” He tilted his head to the side and smiled. “Why don’t I teach you, and we can talk more there?”
“Only if you want to,” Saahira said quickly. “Please, I don’t want to force you…”
“I want to,” Cyprus said. “I just have enchantments left today, and I can meet you there afterward?”
Saahira nodded. It wouldn’t be enough time to find the bath, but she could still make good use of the extra hour or so. “I think I’ll visit the library and try to salvage my hexlation notes, then.”
“You can borrow mine.” Cyprus fished the parchment from his book before she could answer, and slid his notes into her hands.
“Oh! Thank you.” She carefully added them to her satchel inside her hexlation tome. “Also, as thanks for the bottled light, let me give you two pieces of advice for Professor Moborí’s class.”
“A fair trade, indeed.” Cyprus chuckled. “What are they?”
Saahira made a fist and raised her pointer finger. “First, don’t water the bird. The professor will repeat this one again, but I’m telling you just in case. Second, if you have any enchanted items on your person that you don’t want to talk about”—she stuck out her thumb as her gaze shifted to his earring—“don’t raise your hand when he asks.”
“Perceptive of you,” Cyprus said thoughtfully as he touched the uncut stone that hung near his cheek. “Thank you for the warning, Saahira.”
“You’re welcome.” There was so much more he wasn’t saying. He wants to trust me. Give him time. “And thank you, Cyprus. For trusting me.”
Cyprus picked up her fork and collected all of the eggs left on her plate in quick succession. Then he held it out for her to take with a mischievous smile. “You’re welcome.”
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